


The Strength of the Fellowship

by LeastExpected_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Time, Het, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-04
Updated: 2002-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26275573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeastExpected_Archivist/pseuds/LeastExpected_Archivist
Summary: By Kayleigh.Set in Rivendell, before the Fellowship set off.  Aragorn/Arwen and Aragorn/Boromir
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Arwen Undómiel, Aragorn | Estel/Boromir (Son of Denethor II)
Kudos: 5
Collections: Least Expected





	The Strength of the Fellowship

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Amy Fortuna, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Least Expected](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Least_Expected), which has been offline since 2002. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Least Expected collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/leastexpected/profile).
> 
> Warning: Het Content

The Ring-Bearer he had tried so hard to protect was safely in Rivendell. Aragorn finally allowed himself to sleep properly- for the first time since they had left the inn at Bree. Even on the first few days of his journey with the Hobbits- before any of them had spotted the Black Riders, he was not able to sleep. They had taken turns watching at night, but more than once had Aragorn been on the verge of drifting off to sleep when the snores of Sam or Merry, who were supposed to be guarding the camp, reached his ears and he carried a sleeping hobbit back to his friends and spent the rest of the night watching. Now, finally, protected by Elrond's magic, he could rest. Aragorn lay in the room he had occupied when he had lived in Rivendell, and it was the only place where he had ever felt truly safe; perhaps because he had come here to escape death as a young child and therefore always associated it with protection. 

In that first night, Arwen came to him. Like all elves, she could move without ever making a sound, her feet barely touching the ground. Aragorn did not stir from his bed as she entered. He was usually enough in tune with her that he could have heard even the slightest breath escape her lips, but in his state of exhaustion, he lay in a dreamless sleep, and did not wake. Arwen smiled as she looked at his sleeping form. She gracefully sat down on the bed and leaned down to place a kiss on his forehead. Aragorn smiled in his sleep but still did not wake up. Arwen then placed a kiss on his lips, and he woke with a start, reaching instinctively for his sword, but feeling her cool hand on his chest, he calmed. She broke the embrace. 

"I am sorry to have woken you." She said, tracing the contours of his face with the fingers of her right hand, while keeping the left on his chest, just over his heart. 

"I am glad you did, love." Aragorn replied, his voice a little rough from sleep, but still full of love and adoration. "I have missed you, dearest." 

"And I you. I... I couldn't wait until tomorrow to see you. Glorfindel told me of the troubles you have had on your journey." Arwen paused, then continued, looking away from him. "I thought... perhaps I could help you forget them?" She added shyly, turning back to him and smiling sweetly. Aragorn smiled back at her. 

"I already have, sweetheart." He reached up and took her shoulders in his hands. He pulled her down to him and kissed her, very gently. He moved his hands round to her back and undid the ties that held her robes together. Arwen pushed his arms down. Aragorn looked up at her in confusion. 

"Don't do anything. Let me take care of you." She whispered. Aragorn let his hands drop to his sides. Arwen knelt above him and finished undoing her robes. They fell away, leaving her naked before him. He felt himself hardening at the sight of her. Instinctively, he reached up to touch her, but she pushed his hands away again. 

"Please, love." He murmured. 

"Another night, dear heart." She replied. "Tonight, let me." As she said this, she leaned down and kissed his jaw-line. He groaned as she gently nipped her teeth along his jaw and neck, down to his muscled chest. "You are leaner than when I last saw you. And this scar's new." Arwen whispered, tracing a ridge of skin on his shoulder she had not seen before. 

"Ay. A man tried to kill me in my sleep. Men of the South don't seem to like Rangers very much." Aragorn replied. Arwen frowned. 

"My poor love." She kissed the scar and then returned her attention to his chest. Aragorn was getting impatient. Arwen could keep him waiting for hours, if she chose. This was not the time for that- he needed her, needed to be inside her. He reached up once more, this time not waiting for her response, but quickly turning her over onto her back. She cried out in protest, but he shushed her. 

"Dearest, please. I need you now." He said. Arwen nodded, reaching up to twine her fingers in his dark hair. Aragorn kissed her and then thrust himself inside her. She let out a gasp against his lips, and pushed her hips up in a counter-movement. Aragorn began to thrust against her, faster and faster, trying to forget everything in the world except for his love, lying beneath him. Tears ran down his cheeks- tears of joy at being with Arwen again, and tears of pain as thoughts of his life outside Rivendell flittered past his eyes. His anger and pain at being sneered at and spat upon for being a Ranger. His anguish at knowing who he was, and for knowing how his father had been killed when he himself was just two years old. Knowing that if he revealed his true self, a similar fate could befall him. Rage at having been chosen for the task of accompanying the Great Ring to Rivendell. He did not deserve it- he did not deserve to feel the constant pull of the ring at his soul. He should have refused Gandalf. But he knew he could not have done so. Arwen sensed his thoughts and gently wiped away the tears falling on his cheeks. She kissed his brow. 

"Do not think of such things. You are here, you are home. Let your mind rest." She said. At her words, Aragorn let out a sob, and came suddenly inside her. He then fell against her, his head on her breast, crying softly. Arwen whispered words of love to him, until she finally felt him fall back into sleep. She twined her arms around him, holding him like one would a frightened child, for she knew that he was frightened of what tomorrow's council would bring. At least now he could sleep, that deep dreamless sleep that accompanies a heavy heart. 

During the night, several delegates had arrived at Rivendell for the council the following morning. Aragorn noted some familiar faces: Legolas of Mirkwood, Gloin the dwarf- lord, Gandalf the Grey, and of course little Frodo. The other hobbits were not invited to the council, but Aragorn was certain he'd seen Sam's curly head poking our from behind a bush near where the council was seated. Most of the others were in the parties of those he knew, except for one. A man, tall and proud, the only man other than himself present at the council, sat a few seats away from him. He had arrived alone, no other delegates were sent with him from his country. He looked to be a man from Gondor, for his hair was too dark to mark him as a man of Rohan, and his skin was too fair for him to be from the Western Lands. As Aragorn studied him, the man turned and regarded him with curiosity. Aragorn nodded his head, and turned his attention back to Elrond. 

All that morning they spoke- of the treason of Isengard and the betrayal of Saruman, of the rise of Sauron, of the Great Ring. Aragorn said little, preferring to listen and watch than to argue with the others. Only once did he interject: the man of Gondor, who had been identified as the elder son of the steward Denethor, begged the council to use the Great Ring to fight the Dark Lord. Inexplicably, Aragorn felt his emotions heighten as Boromir spoke. He stood and interrupted him. 

"You cannot wield it. No one can. The ring answers to Sauron alone- it has no other master." Boromir regarded him strangely. 

"And what would a ranger know of this?" He asked derisively. Aragorn could see that Boromir was quick-tempered, and did not want to risk a fight breaking out at the council. He was about to sit down when Legolas defended him. 

"This is no mere ranger. This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir to the throne of Gondor. You owe him your allegiance." Aragorn sighed miserably, and asked Legolas to be seated. Boromir stared at him. There was a dangerous light in his eyes- Aragorn felt afraid of him, even though he was one of the best swordsmen in Middle Earth, there was an aura of power radiating from Boromir that he did not want to test. 

"Gondor has no King. Gondor needs no King." Boromir said coldly, not looking at Aragorn. He sat down and stared straight ahead. The council resumed without further incident. 

That afternoon, after the council had agreed on a fellowship to send into Mordor to destroy the ring, (he had been right- Sam was hiding behind the bush) Aragorn walked through Rivendell, thinking. He realised his footsteps were taking him to Arwen's chambers. It would be good to talk to Arwen, he thought, she was always able to uncloud his mind. As he neared her room, he heard her voice, as well as that of another man's. He recognised the Gondorian prince's, and rushed forward, sword drawn. Pushing open the door, Aragorn saw them standing a few feet apart, but Boromir had his hand on Arwen's wrist. Aragorn drew his sword. 

"Let go of her." He growled menacingly. They looked up at him in surprise. Boromir released Arwen. 

"Aragorn, put up your sword, there is no need..." Arwen began, but Aragorn interjected. 

"Did he hurt you? What are you doing here?" He asked the two questions in the same breath, though they were directed at two different people. 

"I haven't touched her, son of Arathorn." Boromir replied. "Do not worry, I was asking for her help, not her affections." With that, Boromir walked out, shoving Aragorn as he did so. Aragorn and Arwen watched him go. 

"You should follow. It would not do well for the two greatest fighters of the fellowship to be at odds with each other." Arwen told him. Aragorn looked at her skeptically. She laughed. "Do not be so worried! He was only asking me to speak with my father on his behalf. You can be sure my heart only belongs to you." 

"And mine to you." Aragorn answered. He sheathed his sword and followed Boromir. 

Aragorn followed Boromir outside of the elven city to the woods beyond. Boromir's long legs carried him swiftly, and Aragorn had to jog just to keep his in sight. Finally Boromir came to a halt. He hadn't yet noticed Aragorn following him. Boromir drew his sword and began to hack at a nearby tree. Aragorn wisely decided to wait until Boromir's anger was spent before he approached him, and stood hidden from Boromir's sight. The Gondorian prince continued to slice at the tree with his sword, seeming not to ever tire. He paused only to remove his shirt, and then continued to practice his swordplay. Aragorn stared at him- the man was broadly built, with large muscles rippling beneath his skin as he turned and lunged with his sword. He was obviously a skilled swordsman. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Boromir stopped, sweat dripping from his face and back, and sat down with his back to the mangled tree. Aragorn approached him cautiously. 

"Boromir?" He asked, tentatively. Although Boromir looked exhausted, Aragorn did not doubt that he could easily spring up and fight again. Boromir turned, beads of sweat flying from his wet hair. 

"I have already told you, I did not touch the lady." Boromir said, and turned his head away. 

"That is not why I am here." Aragorn replied, sitting down in front of Boromir. He could not help but notice his chest moving as his breathing slowed to normal. He jerked his head up, aware that Boromir could have caught him staring. 

"And why are you here?" He hadn't seen, then, Aragorn thought. 

"I came to apologise." 

"What for?" Boromir asked, surprised. "What have you done for which you should be sorry?" 

"I... I was rude to you at the council, and-" before he could finish, Aragorn was interrupted by a sharp laugh. 

"You, rude to me? It is I who should be apologising. You... took me by surprise. I am afraid I lost my temper. Forgive me for... anything I said to you in anger." The apology came as a shock to Aragorn. He had not expected this proud man to be so easily humbled. 

"Nonetheless, I behaved inappropriately with the Lady Arwen just now." Aragorn resumed. 

"I can see how you could have made a mistake. I did not mean to cause you any distress." Again, Boromir was apologising! Aragorn stared at him. "What is the matter?" Boromir misread Aragorn's look. 

"I cannot believe that a man as great as yourself is so quick to apologise." Aragorn said before thinking about the words. Again he was answered by Boromir's laughter. 

"I, a great man? From what you have seen of me, you should think me a very poor man indeed." Boromir responded. "I do not think any would consider me great. I am quick-tempered, foolhardy and unwise." He paused, seeming unsure as whether or not to continue. "I... I am the elder of my father's two sons, so one would think I would be the one to stay and protect Minas Tirith, correct?" Aragorn nodded, taken aback by this personal discussion. Boromir continued. "My brother is the one he prefers, though. Faramir is calm, rational and wise- everything I am not. My father sent me to Rivendell instead. Which is a good choice, I am not exactly the best leader of men." 

"Yet from what I have heard tell, you are a great soldier. I have also seen proof of your prowess in battle, just now." Aragorn reached up behind Boromir and patted the tree. "You kept your temper in check when I drew my sword against you. Do not think so meanly of yourself." Aragorn's hand, which had been on the tree, now dropped onto Boromir's shoulder. He meant for it to rest there a moment, then drop. But, as if of its own accord, it remained there. Aragorn could feel the heat rising in his cheeks. Move your hand, fool! He thought to himself. But he could not. Boromir had an unreadable expression on his face. He looked at Aragorn's hand, then back up at Aragorn himself. 

"Aragorn..." He began. Aragorn realised it was the first time he'd heard Boromir speak his name. An overpowering urge came over him then. He leaned forward- all the while inside his head he screamed at himself for what he was doing- and kissed Boromir's lips. Boromir jerked his head back, but the tree prevented him from moving away far enough to escape Aragorn's embrace. Soon, though, Boromir relaxed into the kiss, returning it instead of just accepting it. Aragorn's hand traveled upwards and tangled itself in Boromir's hair, feeling the droplets of sweat drip off the curled strands. Aragorn's other hand moved around Boromir's neck, holding his head steady. Finally, he broke the kiss. For a moment, neither opened their eyes. Then, as if of one accord, they looked at each other at the same time. 

"I... forgive me, Boromir, I do not know... what I was doing." Aragorn stuttered out, knowing it was the right thing to say, but not honestly wanting Boromir to leave and forget about this moment. The strange passion he had felt when Boromir was speaking at the council was flaring up in him again, and he realised that it was this passion that had caused him to draw his sword when he saw Boromir and Arwen together. Aragorn pulled his hands away, but Boromir grabbed them. 

"I do not really believe that you did not know what you were doing." Boromir said, his deep voice almost a growl. "Are you ashamed of yourself?" 

"No! I mean... are you not disgusted by me?" Aragorn asked shyly. Boromir laughed. 

"Disgusted? Surely not. Have you never been attracted to a man before?" 

"I... no, I..." Aragorn's face was flushed, both with embarrassment and with being so close to Boromir. The man's scent filled his nostrils- sweat, leather and earth. It was more powerful than all the drugs of Middle Earth. Boromir caressed Aragorn's face with his fingertips, strangely mimicking Arwen's gesture the night before. 

"Do you feel attracted to me?" Aragorn was shocked by the man's boldness. But his desire was evident, and he was sure Boromir had seen the tent-like shape in the crotch of his breeches. Aragorn did not answer immediately, afraid to put into words what he was feeling. Boromir leaned forwards, grasped Aragorn's head and pulled him into a deep embrace. Aragorn did not hesitate when Boromir's searching tongue licked at his lips. He parted them greedily, wanting to have as much of Boromir as he could. Aragorn shifted, pressing himself up against Boromir's body. Boromir drew back far earlier than Aragorn would have liked, and he let out a small whimper. Boromir smiled. "Do you feel attracted to me?" He repeated. 

"Yes..." Aragorn hissed, tugging at Boromir to try and regain the electric contact that had been between them when their bodies were touching. Boromir grinned. 

"It surprises me that a man as great as yourself is so easily humbled." He said, mocking Aragorn's earlier comment, and keeping Aragorn at a slight distance. "You are wearing far too much, Aragorn." Aragorn stopped struggling and began to undo his shirt. Boromir watched him eagerly. For the first time in his life, Aragorn felt self-conscious undressing before another man. He tossed his shirt away, and looked back at Boromir, who was staring, unabashed, at him. "You are beautiful, Aragorn." Before Aragorn could respond, Boromir pulled him into a deeper embrace, now touching skin to skin. Aragorn stroked Boromir's chest as they kissed, toying with the nipples which hardened to his touch. Boromir slid his hands down Aragorn's back, down to his buttocks, and finally in front to the laces of his breeches. As he began to untie them, Aragorn pulled away slightly. Boromir stopped. "Is this not what you want?" he asked. 

"Yes... I..." Aragorn tried to answer, but found his breathing was heavier than usual. "I do not know what to do." He said finally, all in a rush. Boromir looked at him, his beautiful green eyes kind. 

"I will be gentle with you." He said, pulling Aragorn back to him. Aragorn, still nervous, was emboldened by this and showered kisses all over Boromir's face and neck. Boromir's hands undid the ties that held Aragorn's breeches together, and he slid them gently down Aragorn's legs. Aragorn repeated the gesture for Boromir and soon they were both naked. They kissed for a while more, Aragorn trying to eat up every inch of Boromir's flesh. Boromir eventually pushed Aragorn away from him. "Are you certain that this is what you want?" He asked, concerned. Aragorn's body was crying out for the lack of Boromir's heat. 

"Please, oh please, yes Boromir." This was all that Boromir needed. He pushed Aragorn onto his back and crawled on top of him. 

"Now, please, just be calm..." Boromir spoke gentle words to him as he ran his hands up and down Aragorn's body, neglecting the one place Aragorn needed the most attention. Aragorn cried out in surprise as one of Boromir's fingers entered him. Boromir kissed him, stiffling the cry. "Tell me if you want to stop." He said against Aragorn's lips. 

"No! No, please Boromir! I need you!" Aragorn answered, breathless. Boromir nodded, and started to gently slide his finger in and out. His other hand he now used to mimic the motion on the crease of skin where leg meets torso. Aragorn cried out again, in desperation. "Please, Boromir!" 

"Be patient." Was all Boromir said. He added a second finger and Aragorn knew if he did not have more soon, he would not last much longer. He reached up and took Boromir's shoulders in his hands. 

"Please Boromir- I need you now!" He cried. Boromir looked at him, concerned, then finally acquiesced. He withdrew his fingers and laid Aragorn down to the ground. He lifted Aragorn's legs and wrapped them around his waist. Aragorn could feel Boromir's hardness near his entrance. He repeated his plea. "Please Boromir!" In response, Boromir pushed the head of his cock into Aragorn. Aragorn cried out, though not in pain. His hands clenched at the soft grass beneath him. Boromir slowly pushed himself into Aragorn, until, finally, he was completely sheathed inside him. Instead of moving, as Aragorn had expected, Boromir took hold of Aragorn's throbbing cock and gently rubbed it. He built up a gentle rhythm, and then began to slide his own manhood in and out of Aragorn at the same time. Aragorn's fists were pounding the ground- his emotions were spilling over- joy, anger, love, hatred, pain, sadness, ecstasy- all these he felt swirling around his head. He took hold of Boromir, digging his fingernails into the bigger man's sides, letting his passion loose. Boromir was having trouble controlling himself- he was very near to his climax. "Not yet," he thought, "not until Aragorn is ready." As if on cue, Boromir felt Aragorn tense beneath him. Boromir let himself climax just as he felt Aragorn do the same. Then he dropped down onto Aragorn's chest, both men panting and sweating. 

When they returned to Rivendell for the evening feast, Arwen noticed them enter together. 

"I am glad to see you two together. There may be some hope for us yet." She said, smiling innocently. Aragorn and Boromir looked at one another. Perhaps the fellowship had more of a chance of survival because of this. Each knew the other would lay down their life for him. So long as they remained together, the fellowship could not fail.


End file.
